Ellen Under The Stairs (22 page)

Back to the chase, everyone sneaking
peeks at the pursuit ships as they looped around distant
whirlpools, the trailing Malachites still far back but looming
larger with each swirl they circled. The question was what it had
always been: would the Malachites catch up to John's putt-putt boat
before John and his crew reached the safety of the
Claws?

So ended the first day, down-light
upon them, the Malachites making for tie-up docks to resume the
chase tomorrow.

With the steam boat no match for the
speed of the enemy, John considered traveling throughout the night
-- night monsters be damned! But gave that up. Forcing his crew to
travel at night was to risk mutiny. (Also to be considered was his
brush with the nocturnal Lxlop -- making it at least a possibility
that fearsome creatures did lurk beneath the night time
sea.)

So he'd decided to head for shore, tie
up presenting another problem!

Had he thought beyond his eagerness to
high tail it out of Xanthin harbor, he would have insisted that the
Head cook come along for the ride, Deninia the only one who could
"turn on" the fire stones to a sufficiently high temperature to
boil water. Without Deninia, he couldn't shut down the boat's
engine to make tie-up and expect to get the stones hot enough to
take off again tomorrow.

Time for a final idea, the light
fading fast, the trees at shore line dimming to a continuous hedge
of green. "Coluth?"

Turning the steering over to Golden,
the Admiral walked to where John was looking at the approaching
shore. "Yes?"

"Is there any chance we can continue
traveling after down-light? But do it safely, by staying in the
shallows close to the coast?"

Resting his sea-roughened forearms on
the deck rail, the Admiral thought it over. Shook his head. "Even
in waters I know, the dark would hide rocks that might damage the
boat."

Though John had wanted a different
response, John could be certain he'd gotten the best advice Coluth
had to give, disaster dogging any leader whose followers "sucked
up" to him by soft pedaling unpleasant truths.

"The problem is that we can't stop the
boat because only Deninia can fire it up again. Can't even slow it
down. So how are we going to tie up a moving boat?"

Coluth thought about that in his
deliberate way.

"It could work to reach the shallows,
then set the rudder to take the ship in tight circles."

* * * * *

A suggestion that worked, the boat
circling just off shore -- all night long -- the crew cooking the
pan fish they'd caught before bedding down on what was left of the
boat's deck, using their robes to protect them from the splinters
of the unvarnished boards.

* * * * *

It was Coluth's turn to keep track of
the hunter ships, Coluth thinking that, if he had only traveled to
this part of Realgar more often, he could come closer to
calculating the number of days it would take to reach the Claws and
safety. Not too many, he hoped. For the Malachites new, double oar
bank ships were gaining on them with alarming speed, the three of
them looming larger each time they reached this end of their
circle-turns.

When making the point to the Mage that
the enemy ships were catching up, Coluth had observed John-Lyon
carefully. And been discomforted by what he saw.

Until now, Coluth had been unconcerned
about the Malachites. Let them approach. Let them narrow the gap.
For when close enough, the Mage would destroy them with bolts from
his Mage-Disk.

On Coluth telling the young Mage the
truth about the Malachite advance, however, the Mage's eyes said
something different: that John-Lyon did not have that
option.

Coluth's understanding of that haunted
look? That, somehow, John-Lyon had lost his Crystal.

Such were Coluth's thoughts early in
the day, Coluth, Golden, Philelph, Tangu, John-Lyon, Philelph,
Coluth again ... taking turns at the tiller, the Admiral -- just
relieved by Golden -- walking back to lean over the
rail.

John-Lyon joining him, Coluth shaded
his eyes ... to see something unusual, an oddity he was about to
share, when the Mage spoke.

"Have you noticed the sky, Coluth? It
seems to me that the sky is changing. That the yellow of
Stil-de-grain is shading into the orange of Malachite's
sky."

Coluth looked up at the dome. Saw that
the Mage was right.

"From where we are now," -- John-Lyon
was about to ask the question he often did -- "can you estimate how
long it will take to get to Malachite waters?"

"Two days, perhaps another day's
travel into one of the claws, to be safe."

"Think we'll make it?" Asked, less
with hope, than longing.

"Perhaps."

"One thing I wanted to ask about. Does
it seem to you that the Malachite cruisers are going faster than
they did at the start of the chase?"

So, John-Lyon had noticed the
Malachites were picking up speed.

"They, also, know we approach Realgar.
Wish to catch us before then."

"But how can they speed up? Are the
circles smaller here in Sea Minor, so that they're coming around
them faster?"

"No."

"Then how?"

"I was about to tell you."

"Go on."

"They go faster because they are
rowing all the time, even around the rim, to reach greater
speed."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"A tactic in our favor, if their
sailors tire."

"And will they?"

Coluth looked over the stern again,
the sea, like the sky, a muddy, yellow-orange, a sure sign of band
change. "Perhaps."

* * * * *

Another day, John and Coluth watching
as the three Malachite cruisers finished a loop, coming so close
this time that John could see individual faces of the officers and
crew.

It was then that something ... unusual
... happened.

"What are they doing,
Coluth?"

What John was talking about was the
cruisers pulling close together, oars shipped between the three of
them, John making out grappling hooks tossed from deck to deck to
bind the ships together.

"I don't know," Coluth admitted,
squinting, shading his eyes again.

Not what John wanted to hear, but
better than some phony answer that would back fire on them
later.

Sensing something was wrong, Golden
had come to stand beside them. Also Platinia, out of the way as
ordered, but still within ear shot, John noticed.

"Whatever it is, they're losing
ground."

"I know," Coluth said soberly, this
maneuver making no sense to the Admiral, either.

"Ah." Coluth said, "Now I know. They
are exchanging crews."

"Why? Oh, look!"

The ships had just separated, two of
the three allowing themselves to drift past the "jump point" to the
forward swirl, continuing around the same whirlpool to drift back
toward Xanthin.

Only the third ship had done the
expected: pulled for the next whirl in the sea, putting them around
the rim of the circle John's boat was cutting across.

"Yes, I see what has happened," Coluth
said. "Rowing to catch us was tiring them. They pulled together to
consolidate their sailors, putting their strongest men in a single
boat."

"The better to run us
down."

"Now or never, since we're nearing
Realgar," Golden put in, the young man rarely speaking throughout
the trip, the youth using his free time for exercising -- a Golden
obsession.

"They've still got to go around this
loop," John said, stating the obvious. "What's the chance they'll
catch us when we reach the other side?"

"A possibility," Coluth put in,
seconding Golden's judgment.

John looked at the sky. "We're heading
into Realgar waters."

"Yes," said Golden. "I can feel the
beginning of Band Sickness."

And he was right, John also aware of
increasing strength. "But it does not matter. They have made a
mistake." This, also from Golden.

"What?"

"They are down to their last
ship."

"So?" From John's point of view, it
was five men on the steam boat against two hundred Malachite
sailors and however many marines they had on board. Not only that,
but with Malachite a "heavier pulling" band, Malachite men had
grown up to be stronger than John's Stil-de-grain crew.

"With only one ship," Golden
continued, in his smug way. "You will find it easy to destroy them
with your Mage Magic."

"Unfortunately, there are side effects
to the use of the Crystal."

"Side effects?"

"The Crystal makes me ... dangerous to
be around."

Golden nodded.

"So you can see that I don't want to
use the Disk's power unless absolutely necessary."

"Very wise, great Mage."

"Let's just say that, for the moment,
I'm going to try everything else first."

A Golden bow of assent.

The trailing ship continuing to row
around the last loop, John found his entire crew gathered at the
back of the putt-putt boat. (Even Tangu, who had tied off the
rudder so the boat continued to run straight.)

"As we cross into the next swirl,
they'll be near enough to row straight for us," Coluth said, as if
announcing that the church picnic was about to begin. Even in a
tight spot, you didn't rattle the Admiral.

"And their rowers seem fresh enough to
do that," John added, trying for Coluth's neutral tone.

What they were talking about was
capture. Unless ....

The Malachites so close John could
hear the slap of oars, their sailors pouring on the power, John
cupped his hands around his mouth to project his voice. "We have
the king of Malachite on board!" Though sound didn't carry well on
land, noises skipped a long way over water. "Your true King,
Cleadon, son of Cleadon. You are to take your orders from
him!"

"We follow Lithoid," came the echoey
reply. "Until there is proof he is no longer king, our loyalty is
to him."

"The proof," John shouted, feeling for
his Crystal in the deep pocket in which he kept it, "is in my word.
For I am John Lyon, Mage of Stil-de-grain."

"There must be more than that." Ever
closer, the Malachite captain's voice assumed new
authority.

"Do not force me to give you the final
proof. For unless you give up the chase, I will wither you to
nothingness."

Crystal-bluffs had worked before. No
reason a Magical threat would fail now.

There was a pause, then a shifting on
board the Malachite boat.

Slowly, then faster, the sailors
pulled on ropes to swing a large mirror forward of the ship's
bow.

John had thought about using a mirror
for defense against Mage bolts. Just hadn't had time to try that.
Leaving the question: would a mirror reflect a Mage bolt back on
those who sent it?

He hadn't wanted to use his Crystal
anyway. Couldn't risk doing that now.

Not that he was ready to surrender
until he'd tried the weapon of last resort.

"I'm going to use the steam gun," John
said to no one in particular -- to all in general. "If this doesn't
work, we're through -- unless someone else has a
suggestion?"

No one said anything, all looking at
John.

"OK. Everybody get behind the gun,"
the men jumping to it, eager to follow that order.

Meanwhile the Malachite ship continued
to approach, its sailors bending their backs to the oars, their
sweaty muscles gleaming.

Closer. .... Closer.

Near enough!, John bending to grab the
crank that siphoned sea water into the back of the gun. If the gun
worked like it should, there'd be a moment's delay while the hot
rocks at the back turned the nearest water to steam, the rest of
the water, now scalding hot, belched out the barrel and across to
the Malachite ship.

There hadn't been time to develop a
way to aim the steam-cannon. Still, John thought that most of the
boiling water would clear the Malachite mirror to fall on the
sailors amidship.

Giving the crank a measured turn,
feeling it pull water into the gun, John waited ... and waited
.......................

Nothing. No surge of heat. No stream
of boiling water out the barrel.

Why?

There was a ragged cheer! From the
Malachites? No. From John's people.

Looking up from the gun, staring over
the back rail, John realized his crew was rejoicing because the
Malachite ship had turned back, its sailors rowing furiously to
catch the lip of the spinning circle of water that would have them
headed home.